


i'll take my heart clean apart

by vexahlla



Category: Pillars of Eternity
Genre: Ambiguous gender and class for the Watcher so interpret as you see fit!, Canon-Typical Violence, Other, POV Second Person, slowburn, the Deadfire re-write of the romance we deserve
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-05-10 00:45:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14726768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vexahlla/pseuds/vexahlla
Summary: Destiny is a funny thing in the world of fake gods and hidden truths, but it's the only thing he can thing of when the world puts them back together again with those strings of fate. Destined. They're destined to be against the world together.(Deadfire, but with the Edér romance we all wanted. Updates bi-weekly.)





	1. beginning of te end

**Author's Note:**

> title inspired by "atlas: two" by sleeping at last.
> 
> were you incredibly salty at the lack of Edér romance in deadfire? did you go through the five stages of grief? are you still in the five stages of grief? (throws back a bottle) yeah me too. which is why i'm writing this out of spite because of the lost opportunities and honestly obsidian, you owe me $3000 for emotional damage. or, y'know, the actual edér romance. bloody bastards, you're worse than the pirates i had to reload 12 times to sneak into their base.
> 
> ANYWAY. thanks for checking this out guys, i hope you enjoy this! special shoutout to my dearest friend kaity who is as equally salty as me and helped inspire me! i'll continue the chapter hopefully within the next two weeks and have it posted by then!
> 
> //edit: just for clarification since i have a feeling i'll be asked this in the future: the Watcher's race, gender, and class are all ambiguous! my goal is to be as accommodating as I possibly can so that all of our Watchers can imagine being with Edér. that being said, for clarification once more, writing every class will be very difficult so my go-to fix it was that.... (drum roll) the Watcher is just multiclassed into everything. not literally, but they're a jack of all trades kind of deal! you'll see the Watcher change up their fighting style over the course of the story so that I can be as accommodating as possible.

One moment, you are rushing outside to panicked voices and screaming outside of your castle halls. The next, you are everywhere and nowhere. You are everything and nothing. You are… somewhere. Familiar, but cold. Empty, ever-expanding. A sleepless world.

The In-Between of life and death.

You are nothing more than an essence of your soul, bright and vibrant, but with no physical form, nothing keeping you tethered to the world you know so well. It registers somewhat in your mind that you aren’t alive, but you’re not dead either. Empty, just like this world.

You feel like you shudder, but with no body to inhabit you’re not sure what you do.

Like clockwork, you force yourself to move down the preset path laid before you and chasing after the other souls walking off into the distance. Voices and faces fill your mind’s eye the longer you walk down the path and passing the lesser-maintained souls, those who are already beginning to fade away into nothing. Not you, though. You’re too stubborn for that. Or at least, you like to believe that you are.

The giant pillar of light grows ever closer as you continue following the path, and when you step close enough you feel yourself being pulled away like a doll on a string.

“The Wheel has turned again, Watcher. Come.”

You emerge into a wall-less room, a floating platform risen higher above the In-Between to watch over the passing souls below. You gather your senses, meeting the gaze of an aged dwarf near a wooden door. His face looks like nothing more than wrinkles, a shadow over the features that you can see with the light around you. But there is a worn smile as he looks at you, his face turning from a hanging sack of flash to something resembling an old sickly man. It is a small comfort.

He bows low enough, an arm across his stomach as his other hand opens up the wooden spot you had eyed moments before. The gesture is welcoming and you get the feeling that you should follow.

There is no stable walkway, just rocks held together by the will of the land. They form together as you approach to create a makeshift bridge to lead you to the next platform, the old dwarf shadowing your steps behind you.

A gaunt woman is seated at the table before you, time-worn black armor that is far too large for someone of her stature to move in. To you she looks a child in adult armor, the metal almost threatening to swallow her whole. Her features are drawn and hollow, but her eyes are piercing as they move towards you. “Sit. Please.”

You’ve barely a body that’s stable enough in this realm, but hey, you’re not quite sure what’s happening and you’re not eager to get on anyone’s bad side right now. You sit, as instructed.

“Thank you for joining us, Watcher of Caed Nua.” When she speaks, you see her features more clearly up close. Milky skin stretched thin across the bones beneath, nearly the same color of the shine of her gorget. Her gaze returns to the cards, her gauntlets assembling, then disassembling, then once more reassembling a deck of cards onto the table you share. With every moment, her armor squeaks and groans.

You wince.

She places a final card onto the table, smiles with something akin to satisfaction and looks up at you once more. “Your brush with the divine has drained you of your powers, fractured your memories. Look upon these cards. They represent the courses of your life. You alone know best how they flowed. Arrange them to fit what you remember.”

Straight to the point, then. You notice her voice is echoing, fluctuating. Like her own form isn’t stable for this environment. Shifting forward in your seat, you glance down at the numerous cards before you; each one of them lights up with a purple flame as you touch them, arranging them to what you remember. Clarity comes into your mind as the pieces begin to click into place, a melodic tune of remembrance in your soul as you slide them into place, event after event. Day after day, month after month, the years coming together in the pictures on the cards.

You cast a final glance at them again, but your mind is neutral to them. You know this is what happened, that this is what you remember.

“Does everything appear to be in order?” the woman asks you, noting your hesitation. You take a moment, take another glance across them all just in case, and nod to her when you’re satisfied. “Good. Welcome to the Beyond. I am Berath. One half, anyway.” Her finger gestures in the direction of the dwarf behind her, the one who had led you here. Though the movement is small, you wince at the loud noise once more. The dwarf nods.

“Tell me,” she continues. “Do you remember when we last met?”

You nod once more. “In the Hall of Stars in Twin Elms.” You recall the amount of fear you had during that trip, already going half-mad by the time you had arrived.

“You prayed for help in reaching Thaos, beyond the Court of Penitents.” Her voice is calm as she speaks, and she places a card in the middle of the arrangement. A bell tower with no bell. Slowly, she draws her finger away from the card with armor creaking and squealing at the movement. “You had need of the gods once before. Now it seems we have need of you.”

Oh, well. This isn’t going to be good.

Berath is oblivious to your thoughts. “The being that occupied Od Nua’s statue beneath your castle was the ‘dead god’, Eothas. Of this, we are certain. What we do not know is what his intentions are.” You think back to the screams and agony, but bite your tongue to stay quiet. “Though Eothas stole a large fragment of your soul, you were strong enough to survive the onslaught and enter the In-Between.”

Glancing around, you get the idea that the In-Between is the name of the realm you’re in. Not a far stretch probably. You’re still uncomfortable with it, all the same.

“You and he are still connected. He has chosen a body made of living adra, perfused with the power of thousands of souls - including yours. It should be little difficulty for an experienced Watcher to find him.”

“Why don’t you just do it yourself?” you ask. Hadn’t they stopped Eothas before, albeit in an… explosive manner.

“Taking a physical form in Eora is fraught with peril. Most mortal minds and bodies are incapable of containing divine power. It can lead to… problems, as Eothas learned not long ago.”

“Which is why he’s… a statue of adra,” you conclude, frowning. “I’d like to find him as much as you would. He destroyed my castle and killed who knows how many people around it.”

Berath nods. “I know. It is my business to know. Three hundred and twenty-two in Caed Nua and your surrounding lands.” Already do you burn that number to your heart, clenching your jaw in both grief and anger. “Their souls remain in Eothas still. You have the power to save them. Serve me and I will return you to your body. Or don’t, and return to the Wheel.”

Serve a god or die. Great. That’s… well, that’s a _whole_ range of choices right there! And you’re really fond of living and not being dead, like you currently are. In fact, this whole choice is bullshit. All of this is bullshit.

Anger bleeds in your voice, controlled but still there. “Then let’s get on with it.”

“Good. Before you return to Eora as my herald, you must remember who you were, the last whisper of life in death.” You think of it a trick of your mind, but the sockets of her eyes darken to pure blackness. The gaze of death looking out to you. “When you can picture your own face, the Beyond will lead you back to your own kind. To the world of mortals.”

That’s not too hard. With your memories returned _and_ returning, clarifying as you think about them more, it is easier to recall yourself as you were. It takes only a moment to think of yourself as, well, yourself again.

The dwarf walks behind the knight to the door, as Berath’s main half speaks up. “Go forth now, Watcher, as my herald. Know that I do not give you this title lightly. When the time comes, you will have the power to reveal the souls that cling to you, to open the gateway from the In-Between to the waking world. Find Eothas. Learn his plans. When I have cause to talk to you, I will summon you.”

With a quick gesture of her head, there is a sharp sensation in what would have been your chest. The pain drums, continuing and expanding from your chest digging deeper and deeper into the very essence of your own soul. You glance down in fear to watch a curling form of darkness within yourself. You glance back up to Berath just as the pain fades entirely. “A chime,” she says. “Do not fear, herald. It will not harm you unless you choose to cross me. I trust it will not come to that.”

Yes, well, it’s not as if the gods haven’t ruined your life enough already. You glare long and hard at her just as she raises a hand, gesturing to the dwarf behind her. He gives a firm nod and settles an odd smile on his face as the doors open behind Berath, revealing another crumbling walkway and the endless expanse of the Beyond. You push yourself from your seat and head out the door, dreading what you will find at the end of the path.

The stairs lead to somewhere unfamiliar and you push through the doors fueled only by the desire to return to your body if only to get back into the sensation of living and being alive. Stopping Eothas is a priority too but after everything you’ve been through, following a God’s orders isn’t very comfortable for you. You’ll do it, of course, but it doesn’t mean you won’t make a few side trips or complain along the way. That’s for later and later meaning when you’re back in your body and not being dead anymore.

There’s a wooden door that’s slightly ajar with candlelight creeping out underneath it. You slide between the open space and almost stop with the way your heart nearly jumps out of your chest because of a very familiar figure sitting bedside, pipe in hand and a furrow in his brows. Across the room, too, is a surprise in the form of a familiar marble statue head. But you focus on the man with a fondness in your chest and a smile on your lips.

Ah, Edér, he’s always been a bit too worried over you. You’re glad it hasn’t changed despite the years.

You glance to where he is, watching your own body - that’s weird, isn’t it? - taking shallow breaths and drifting between the brink of life and death. Not that you have to fight anymore since you’re about to return to what is rightfully yours, but you think about all the times where you must’ve looked like this during your hunt for Thaos. How many times have your friends have to watch you look like this, as if you won’t live to the next day?

You shake your head. God or not, you’ll not put Edér through that again. You take a step towards the bed, frowning in expected disappointment when neither him nor the Steward recognize your presence however ghostly. Thinking about the destruction that Eothas caused, the lives lost at Caed Nua and around, the three hundred and twenty two lives lost because of his return leaves a bitter taste in your mouth the more you think about it. Right now, you’re glad that someone survived Caed Nua.

Well, you did. Technically. Not really technically. You’re kind of dead at the moment, but that point aside, you’re about to be not dead so you _did_ survive in a weird roundabout way.

Actually, you don’t want to think about this anymore. You lay a hand over your own chest and let yourself return to where you should be.

The return to your body is something of slow agonizing pain akin to waking up from a drunken sleep, muscles slow and unwilling to respond. Your mind is slow and hazy as you adjust to having all five senses once again, breathing uneasy and ragged in the humid salty air. A hammer lives inside your skull as sharp excruciating pain flares at your temples as your head swims and your body becomes disorientated by the overwhelming sensation of pain _._ You grit your teeth against it all, eyes shut tightly as you curl and uncurl your fingers to get used to living again.

A few seconds pass and the pain doesn’t entirely wash away but you’ve managed to blink open your eyes, taking in a ragged breath as your throat burns at the movement. Your chest feels heavier, the mere toll of being awake far more exhaustive than it should’ve been before.

There’s a gasp followed by a short pause before Edér coughs, straining for breath. You glance over at him with as much strength as you can muster, managing to move your body in a fit of concern as you try to reach for him to see if he’s okay. The movement burns your limbs and your nerves, duller than before.

It’s easier to move at least, all of the pain aside. Edér glances up at you and your now-awake form and sputters. “There’s no way. You’re awake! What are you doing awake?” He sounds more relieved than surprised. “How’re you feeling?”

Between the hammering headache and the aching of your limbs, you try to shrug. “Weak,” you say. “It’ll pass, I think.”

“Sure,” Edér nods. “You’ve been out a long time.”

You grin up at him. “What? That wasn’t just another one of my cat naps?”

He shakes his head with an unbelieving laugh.

“I hate to cast a pall over your recovery, but I’m afraid I have some bad news for you,” the Steward interrupts. There’s relief in her voice, at least. “Caed Nua has been destroyed. Eothas possessed the statue of Maros Nua and rose from the ground, consuming the souls of all nearby. It is only by the exceptional strength of your soul that you survived.”

You blink up at her. You… didn’t, actually. But you probably shouldn’t say that.

“And even then, just barely,” the Steward continues. “The further Eothas withdrew, the weaker you became. We charted this ship and followed him to the Deadfire Archipelago. I know not how, but it seems he has retained a piece of your soul. And proximity to it has brought you back.”

It’s a bit more complicated than that, with all the thanks to Berath. You were _technically_ dead, but rather for them to think that you were just resting your eyes for a long time than soulless. Hell, even thinking about being Hollowborn yourself makes you shudder.

“I know,” you nod up at her, pushing yourself to sit up straight in the bed. No sense in getting out of bed yet if there’s no pressing matters than a god on the loose, and that’ll be soon so you’ll rest as much as you can.

“What?” asks Edér incredulously, poking at your shoulder with a single finger. You try not to grin at it. “How could you know all that? You been faking on us?”

“I would _never_ ,” you reply with mock offense.

Just as he’s about to open his mouth to reply, a set of thunderous footsteps rush down from wooden stairs and race towards your room, a single bony hand pushing open the door as an older man leans down trying to catch his breath. “Misfortune’s brewing topside! We--” He stares at you, slack-jawed and with bloodshot eyes. “Magran’s fires! The captain stirs!”

“Engrim, the smell of drink on your breath could wake the very dead.” You wince at the Steward’s remark to the man. “Now, what’s this about?”

“Pirates. They’re demanding parley with ye, captain.”

And just as you thought about laying in bed for the rest of the day too. Does your bad luck have no end?

Edér glances between you and the door, frowning. “I know this is asking a lot, but you better arm yourself and get on deck. I’ll be with you.” He nods his head towards the nearby wardrobe. “Should be some of your gear in there.”

Grimacing, you swing your legs over the side of the bed with Edér helping you stand with an arm at your elbow and a hand at your back to steady you. Though you are back in your body, the weak feeling you had hoped with pass the longer you were awake seems to remain although at a lesser quality. No doubt the feeling of your soul being stuck inside Eothas, but if it could come with more emotional labor than physical that’d be just dandy, thank you very much.

The wardrobe holds some light armor and an assortment of weapons that you’ve grown comfortable with over the years. Given your state, you don’t think you could go for anything fancy unfortunately so you grab a short sword and buckler and slip the armor on top of your clothing as quickly as you can manage. Satisfied with what you have, Edér escorts you deckside where you already see a larger ship looming next to yours, pirates at the ready and clearly armed.

You are barely halfway onto the deck before the pirate opens his annoying mouth.

“Well, what have we here? A little sloop - lost and alone in the storm?” You glare at the pirate’s word, studying him and his features intently for any sign of weakness. Surly and brutish, he stands stiff-backed in front of his crew as he scowls back down at you, clearing doing the same as you. Assessing for weaknesses. “I’ll be taking your ship now, if you don’t mind. And especially if you do.”

Well, that’s not a very nice greeting now is it?

“At least he asked,” Edér says next to you.

The pirate scoffs. “I am a gentleman of fortune.”

Gods, you _fucking_ hate this dude and you just met him. That’s a rare thing -- you not liking people when you’ve just met them. Sure, there’s been a few in your life but you generally tend to think of yourself as a patient person, always wanting to see the good in people.

This dude can fucking die, though. You raise your hand and flip him off abruptly. Out of your peripheral view, you see Edér smile widely, as if he’s just seen an old friend. “Always liked that one,” he says, still grinning. “Sometimes I like to wiggle the finger like it’s tickling.”

You groan, rolling your eyes.

The pirate laughs too, which throws you off your rhythm. But again, he’s a pirate and he’s probably definitely used to this. “Oh, I like your spirit.” The grin is murderous at you though and he sobers almost instantly with a thinly-veiled mask of rage. “But that won’t spare you none.” Turning his head to the side, he addresses his crew. Damn, you could’ve brought a bow and taken a shot at him right now. “Listen up, mates. I’m off to spear me a bigger fish. One with sharper teeth, like. I’m trusting you lot not to cock this up. _Don’t_ damage the sloop when you take it.”

_Oh, fuck you too buddy_ , you think with all the anger you can muster. You swear to take his ship instead just because.

“Play with the crew if you’d like. But don’t bring me any prisoners. None that’re alive, anyway.” He casts one final cocky glance your way, tilts his head like he’s wearing a hat, and saunters off to his main deck just as his lackeys jump down from below, crashing onto your ship with heavy thuds, swords drawn and ready for blood.

You’re a little ticked off and maybe just extremely pissed, so you raise your hand and go to say the incantations you know by heart just as Edér’s hand gently touches your wrist and speaks with a teasing tone. “Can’t set the ship on fire, y’know,” he says. “We’ve only got one of them, so let’s not send her down so quickly.”

Ah damn, he knew you wanted to cast a fireball. In your other hand, you grip your sword even tighter. “Fine,” you sigh. “But if I ever see him again, I’m burning him with his own ship.”

“I’ll help you with that.” He grins at you. “C’mon, let’s see how well you can hold up after all that sleeping.”

Oh, you do love a challenge.

With a limited number of spells you can use, you find yourself slipping back into the familiar forms of your swordsmanship. The first pirate rushes at you with a wide swing, easily blocked as you raise your sword up to deflect it off to the side. Cocky, arrogant - are pirates _ever_ going to find a new thing? With the momentum of your deflection, you keep your blade going and swing it around to an easy slash. Promptly distracted by you on the front, Edér manages to get a good slice across the man’s back, who sputters blood and hisses with pain.

Really, it just isn’t fair when you and Edér can work together like this. Though he’s covering for your lack of strength at the moment, you are nimble enough to dodge attacks and retaliate with light strikes while Edér manages to keep them all occupied as usual. Blows are blocked with his shield, and while the pirates focus on him, you strike at them with as much force as you can muster. For a cocky and arrogant group, they aren’t stubborn enough to drop dead and by the time you manage to put your sword through the last drunkard your limbs are aching and you feel weaker right now than you have ever felt before.

The wind picks up again and you grab the railing to hang onto, a bolt of lightning flashing down nearby. You wince against the thunderous noise and the crashing waves that makes your headache flare with every second you are outside.

“The storm’s picking up! Take cover!”

You grimace, cursing under your breath. Instinctively, you search for Edér as the harsh winds send crew and cargo alike moving across the ship. Harsh winds in the sails, you hear the number of curses coming from the top deck where your Helmsman attempts to lessen the damage as much as they can -- that rocky shore sure is getting closer by the second, though. You sure wish it wasn’t and that it’d stay plenty ways away. Your chest is heaving with aches and pains, legs shaking against the strain of fighting so soon.

While you’re doing your best to help the crew in battening down the hatches with as much knowledge as you know about ships, a heavy thud catches your battle-honed mind almost immediately, watching a loose cargo crate slide down the rain-slick deck with rapid speed--towards _you._

You duck instinctively as one might duck away from a fireball, years of training and fighting kicking in for those moments of survival but _you_ are the one who is battle-honed, not the deckhand who is caught by it and swept off his feet.

Ah, well, fuck.

Crashing waves hammer the ship once more which sends the Defiant heaving, the deckhand - Chitupec, your mind recalls with no recollection of when you learned their name but you _know_ \- pitches over the side and grips the rail as tightly as he can. You can see his fingers slipping due to the rain go. You also see the cargo tip over the edge, the symbol of Caed Nua emblazoned on the front and realize it’s the remainder of what you have from the keep.

Treasure or Chitupec? As if it’s a choice.

You dive forward as careful as can be, grabbing Chitupec’s arm the same moment his grip fails and his hand sleeps. For a moment where you don’t dare to breathe, he hangs suspended over the angry chaotic sea as you watch the cargo from Caed Nua dip into the water and disappear. His head turns up to you, eyes wide. Despite the burning in your limbs, you tug him back over the deck as quickly as you can.

“Captain,” he breathes. He curtly nods to you instead of speaking further and rushes back to his station, leaving you at the railing with burning limbs and pain that isn’t keen on going away. The storm is pushing and shoving the ship closer and closer to the shore. You feel as still as stone with the pain in your limbs.

A flash of lightning. A jagged and treacherous coastline. The back of a colossal adra statue - _Eothas_ \- striding into the distance.

There’s a choked off warning before the ship slams into the rocky shore wall. The impact sends you hurling from the deck into salty waves and splintering debris, bodies following after yours with dark waters threatening to swallow you all whole. Pain flares in your limbs, an exhaustion tugging at your very soul with every distant thud fading into nothingness in the distance but you struggle towards the beach even with the water tugging you back into the open sea. The tide is almost too much for you to fight against but you are a stubborn person and you will not _die_ by _drowning._ That’s just a disgrace to what you’ve ever been through.

You have standards, thank you very much. You’ll die to being eaten by a dragon or a spell by a lich but drowning is such an offense to your name that spite is the one thing that keeps your limbs moving through the thick and changing waters. You kick and force your limbs to swim through the water until you feel sand between your shaking fingers, and even then you do not stop, you crawl and climb your way to shore as the world begins to darken and fade from the edges of your vision.

You pull yourself ashore and finally give in to the darkness.

.

For the second time in a day, waking back to the living world is like waking from a drunken slumber. Only this time there’s more sand in your face and more pain everywhere in your body and less waking up in a bed. You gasp the moment consciousness hits you again, coughing and sputtering the rest of the water out of your lungs if you have any and the pain is burning, making your eyes sting with tears at the intensity of the pain across your entire body.

Ew. And there’s sand all over your face and in your mouth too. And in your hair. You push yourself onto your knees, greedily taking in lungfuls of air. You begin to angrily wipe the sand off your clothes and face.

“You’ve been getting a lot of sleep so far on this trip,” Edér says next to you, running his fingers through his hair to remove seaweed and sand from the shaggy mess. “I’d have woke you but you looked so peaceful with your face in the sand.”

You highly doubt it. “Thanks,” you say, rolling your eyes as you continue to brush away sand from your face and clothes. “Why couldn’t _you_ have been the one with your face in the sand?”

“I’m just the lucky one,” he grins. “Oh, and if you’re worried about the ship, you can stop worrying. It’s wrecked right over there.”

As if the broken ship behind him wasn’t clearly visible from your current vantage point. You grimace. “I’m all for chasing Eothas, but I’m not swimming all the way to him.”

He laughs. God, how that sound is like music to your ears after everything. “You’ve gotten plenty of practice already.” At your glare, he laughs again though is quick to sober up. “So far, it’s just you and me, and of course the chair lady over there.”

The Steward ignores the comment, and despite her current predicament of being lodged between some rocks, she sounds oddly cheerful. “It’s a relief to see you awake, my dear. I worried you were in for another long sleep.”

“Not until I find another nice bed,” you joke. Neither of them react to your joke.

O...kay. Maybe it was too soon for that one. They can’t blame you for this! You’ve been through a lot in the past twenty-four hours. Or week. Or however long it's been since you've technically died and gone to have a chat with Berath.

A jab of pain at your temples reminds you of your current situation. “What happened again?” you ask, holding your head to dull the pain. Edér’s gaze is focused on you as you do so.

“Ran aground, looks like.” He jerks his head deeper into the island. “Statue headed inland. Guess he had business here or he needed directions.”

“ _We_ certainly need directions.”

“I do sense a few survivors close by,” the Steward informs, “as for the rest… you could give them guidance, but they are beyond any other help.” Gods above, how many lives is Eothas going to take before he’s happy? Your expression sours. “That is,” she continues, “assuming this experience has not diminished your abilities as a Watcher. If you can see the souls of our dead and speak to them, it would be a great comfort.”

You pat your head, eyeing the translucent figure in the distance. “Don’t worry, I still got it.”

Edér sighs out of relief. “A few’s better than I would’ve thought. We better go see if they’re all right.”

“Yeah, hold on, let me just-” You turn from them for a moment, cupping your hands around your mouth. “Hey, Berath, can I get a hand down here!?”

A moment passes with nothing but the calling of gulls and the constant crash of water upon the shore. You curse.

Edér, bless his heart, doesn’t even seem fazed by your yelling. “I’d shout for Eothas, but I’m worried he’d hear me and come over.”

“Isn’t that what we want, though?”

“Eh.”

You groan, again, and turn to the Steward. “Can we patch up the ship?”

“I’m afraid I won’t be much assistance in that regard. And not to doubt Master Edér’s capacity, but even he would need supplies.”

“I mean, we don’t have to look very far…” You gesture to the debris along the shore.

“ _Working_ supplies,” Edér corrects you.

“Eh,” you shrug at him, grinning. He seems amused by it. That’s a win.

“But, the Steward’s right. Steak, specifically.”

The Steward sighs. “Patching the hull is only the start. You’re going to need help getting the Defiant out to sea again. And a crew, for that matter.”

“Then let’s see about the other survivors. And _then_ somehow we gotta get the ship repaired. I don’t wanna be paddling out of here on a salvage raft.”

“We have the supplies,” you say, raising your eyebrows. “Though carrying the Steward on a salvage raft might be hard.”

“For _now,_ ” the Steward interrupts, “I’d say your best bet is to find some sign of civilization. If nothing else, we may be able to hire on a shipwright. But, my dear, first. If it isn’t too taxing, may you explain how it came to pass that you were returned to us?”

You grimace, not expecting it to come up so soon but also you’re glad to get it off your chest. You glance out to the sea where the sun makes the water shine in on the distant horizon and you do your best to stare dramatically.

And promptly forget how to word this dramatically. Ah, how you miss Kana for this kind of stuff. You turn back to them with a shrug. “My soul passed into the Beyond and Berath gave me a choice -- find Eothas or die. Also they’re too dumb to figure out what he’s doing, so they’re making me do it for them. If I don’t, I die.”

Edér’s got a heavy look of concern in his eyes as he frowns. “Could be they’re just not dumb enough to get in Eothas’ way up here and making you do all the dirty work.”

“A perilous endeavor, indeed. Castle or no castle, you are still the owner of Caed Nua and I will aid you to the best of my ability.”

You smile, pushing yourself to your feet and when that fails, letting Edér help you stand up. “Thanks, I’m glad you’re here with me. The both of you.”

“And we’re glad you’re back with us,” he replies, looking around the shore. “Well, I suppose we better get a move on.”

You both move along the shore, carefully stepping over the bodies of your fallen friends and deckhands, offering quiet prayers as you move along. Minutes pass that bleed into a half-hour where it’s the two of you making slow progress along the shore line, looking for survivors and praying to the fallen. The Defiant is at least along the shoreline and not drifting out at sea, which you’re grateful for that small mercy. If you can manage to get some workers to repair it, at least you’re not deep sea-diving for debris or having to pay for a new ship out of pocket. Not that you have any copper in your pockets. Your status and money kind of went down with the ship too.

Damn your rotten bad luck. Can’t keep a ship, can’t keep your money, and definitely can’t keep your entire soul, can you?

You stomp on the stand as if it’ll get all your bad luck out. When you’re done, you look up to see Edér staring at you with an unreadable expression.

“What?” you ask.

At your voice, he seems to snap out of it and flashes a wry grin at you. “You can’t seem to catch a break.”

You stomp on the sand again just for good measure, nodding. “Tell me about it. The moment I start getting cozy is when everything starts going wrong. It’s like I’m being _punished_ for existing.”

“I mean,” Edér says, drawing out the word. “Considerin’ what happened five years back...”

You snort with laughter. “They’re just tryin’ to make me keep their secret, aren’t they?”

“At least Aloth’s doing good work and making sure that ain’t happening. Or well, that the Leaden Key ain’t gonna keep anymore secrets at least.”

“Same thing,” you shrug. “How’d you think he’d react if he knew what happened to me and Caed Nua?”

“Probably go grey with stress.” Edér bites on his lower lip. “Alright. Humor me: how you feelin’ now?”

“After being washed ashore?”

“After _everything._ Kinda died, got thrown back to fix someone else’s problem, and now thrown overboard.”

He’s not the only one who’s going to go grey with stress. There’s that tone you know quite well where he’s trying to hide how worried he is; he used it all the time when you were losing yourself to your soul years ago and it’s a tone you know well. After your revelation of _actually_ going into the Beyond, he’s had that concerned look in his eyes every time he looks at you.

“Edér,” you say with the strongest smile you can manage now after narrowly avoiding death, reaching out to grab his hand to further emphasize your point. “I’ll be fine. I promise.”

He’s staring at you with that serious look on his face that doesn’t really suit him, but there’s a nice shade of red across his cheeks and his ears that you think it’s probably because of the sun bearing down on him and his metal armor. Or it could be your vision is playing tricks on you. Whatever it is, you know he’s being serious and so are you.

Or, well, so you think. His lips are curling upwards at the edges like they always do when he’s about to start laughing.

“Kinda hard to take you seriously when you’ve got seaweed stuck in your hair.”

You blink, gaping as the words settle in. Almost immediately, you take your hand back and scramble for the aforementioned seaweed, grimacing as you do indeed pull it out of your hair with only a small bit of effort. “Eww. You let me walk around with seaweed in my _hair_ all this time?”

Edér glances away with that smile still on his lips. “Thought you’d figure it out by yourself.”

“You’re terrible,” you say without meaning it at all. If anything, you’re terrible. Terribly fond of him despite the years pass.

One of these times, you’ll ask him about the bags under his eyes. How long did he stay up, watching over you and praying to whomever that you’d wake up. Or the fading pink around his eyes, are they from the saltwater or tears he shed? Your chest aches and tightens in pain as you keep the questions to yourself.

_Dumb boy_ , you think fondly. _Dumb loyal boy_.

“Let’s go check out the ship,” Edér says to interrupt your thoughts. He’s glancing over the island. “Could be someone still alive over there, and if not, we can go see about that cave over there. Bound to be survivors somewhere around here.”

Your throat feels dry. “Yeah,” you reply. “Lead the way.”

“That’s my line,” he raises an eyebrow at you. “But, eh, I took all those beatings for you back in the Dyrwood so if you want me to step on a trap…”

You roll your eyes and shove at his shoulder. “You know what I meant.”

“Yeah, I do. C’mon, daylight won’t last for much longer I reckon.”

Or you, you think to yourself. The moment you find what remains of your crew, you’re forcing that man to lay down and _sleep._ Things to do now, though. You follow quickly behind him just like always, letting him lead the way just in case anything is lurking around here, and he falls easily back into the defensive step.

You don’t miss the way danger lurks around every corner or being forced to do a god’s bidding, but you missed this. The way you two step back into the old dance even after years apart. Now, all you’ve got to do is find Aloth and Pallegina and the others and you’ll be set.

That’s what you tell yourself, anyway.


	2. new faces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The search for survivors leaves you with more questions than answers, more friends than enemies, and a warm feeling in your chest - even if you're not sure why yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys i am so terribly sorry for the INTENSELY delayed update. depression and writer's block together formed a barrier that beat me up at every turn and while this isn't the length i'd love for this chapter to be, i'm happy with it nonetheless. i hope you enjoy it as well!
> 
> for later on, i shan't write everything in such slow detail and i'll be speeding up things in the process! but i did want to get some Edér/Watcher banter in, so thus why this feels slow. later chapters shall definitely speed it up, i promise you!
> 
> as always, i hope you enjoy and let me know what you think!

You head towards the Defiant, figuring that’s your best place to start looking for survivors. Though it’s difficult passing over the washed up dead bodies that litter the shore, you try to keep your gaze away from them but Edér stares at them with a heavy frown on his lips, grief all over his face. While you may not have known the crew of the Defiant very well, Edér must’ve. He and the Steward were the ones to charter the ship and hire the help after all. You have no words to help him or to comfort him right now so with a tight lump in your throat you keep moving forward.

The Defiant looks far worse for wear up close, splinters of the hull in several places along the keel and the shore. Tattered sails batter in the wind as evidence of your battle with the pirates. Bodies litter the sands below it, blood mixing into both the water and sand that makes you feel very much nauseous at the brutal death; you hoped they had passed quickly, not bleeding out and in incredible pain.  The two of you sift through the wreckage looking for survivors as you make your way to the main part of the ship. As you approach hope flickers in your chest as you hear someone very much alive calling for help.

“Must still be on the ship,” Edér says. He’s glancing around for a way to climb up almost desperately and you start sifting through the boxes -- someone must’ve been smart enough to grab grappling hooks, someone  _ must’ve _ been that smart and not drunk. You almost cry in relief when you find some -- two of them but two’s just enough.

You turn around just in time to get the terrible idea out of Edér’s mind. “Don’t tell me you’re climbing up with nothing but your bare hands while half the hull is sticking out.”

“Don’t see any other--” You hold up the two grappling hooks with a raised eyebrow. He blinks at you. “-oh. Here, toss one over. I’ll get us up and over in no time.”

You hand one over to him while pocketing the remaining one in your pack for the inevitable use of it later. He takes a moment swinging the rope and hook around his head before it sails through the air, catching on the sturdy part of the ship. With a tug, the rope remains taut and he seems pleased with his work.

“After you,” he gestures upwards. You shake your head at him as step up to grab the rope, testing it for yourself. At least he’s going to be below you to catch you if you fall which you  _ won’t _ because you’re equal parts stubborn and careful, wrapping the rope around yourself as you ascend like always. You take it slow for fear of dropping down onto your ass and mostly because you’d like to sidestep the giant parts of wood sticking out from your ship. As you make your way over the railing from the top of the ship the damage doesn’t look too bad. Definitely salvageable. You drop the rope back down for Edér as you look around finding both salvage and a crew member.

“You’re looking better, casità.” Your eyes fall on Irrena. Though she sounds fine, the wan cast to her features and the sweat on her brow tell you of how she’s really feeling; you wince as you get closer, seeing her leg caught underneath the heavy barrel. From behind you Edér catches up if the heavy thud is any indication. At least heavy armor always lets you know beforehand. “That or I’m worse off than I thought.”

“You’ll be fine,” you tell her. “We’re gonna get you outta here and then you’ll be resting for a week. Or three.”

She smiles at you as you kneel down for a better look.. “Can I ask for four? Ah, it’s my leg.  _ Maddicho _ , it hurts even worse than it looks.” Her leg is covered in blood along the length of her shin and you already know by the swelling around her knee suggests a nasty break. Gods, that couldn’t have been fun. You’re impressed that she hasn’t passed out from the pain yet. All the more reason to get her patched up and to safety.

You glance around the ship. “Edér, hand me some small planks and cut apart some of the sail.” To Irrena, you carefully lift the barrel up off of her leg, shoving it off to the side and watching it roll down to bang against the leftover crates. “I’ll patch you up as best as I can, but you might want to stay off the leg as much as possible.”

The fighter comes back a few moments later, the supplies you asked for well in hand. He crouches down next to you to assist. “I wasn’t planning on going for a run, casità,” Irrena laughs, though she’s watching both you and Edér work with obvious relief. You tell him where to hold the pieces of wood, and you tie it off as securely as you can manage. It’s very, very,  _ very _ makeshift but it’ll last until you can get to a town or the port. “Though I may need some help getting down.”

“I’ve got you,” Edér replies immediately, pulling both you and him to a standing position. Then, he turns to Irrena and helps her, taking the majority of her weight as she leans on her good leg. “Hang on tight, though. Won’t take long.”

You descend before them, just in case an accident happens. It won’t though because you’re all very careful people but you’re ready to catch one or both of them at any point during their descent. Not that, well, you would’ve been able to catch them in your state but maybe you could’ve softened the fall with your body. What’s a few more broken bones, eh?

“My thanks,” she nods at the both of you, stepping away for a moment. “Have you found anyone else or…?”

“The Steward’s down further on the beach and we’re searching for everyone else,” you reply. “It’s relatively safe near the Steward, so hang out around her until we can get a campfire set. And  _ don’t _ use the bad leg too much, okay?”

“Ah, Edér, you never told me the casità worried so much. I’ll start a fire in the meantime and hopefully they’ll see it and turn up. I can manage from here.”

You frown. “Are you sure?”

“Agramica, casità. I am sure. Please, find the others.”

“Don’t worry, we’re not leavin’ without them.” Edér nods. “C’mon, let’s look up further along the beach. Might’ve been washed further ashore or they woke up before us.”

Probably. Irrena thanks you both another time before wobbling her way back towards the Steward, and the two of you turn and return to the search, combing through the cargo that’s washed up as well. You’re so relieved that at least one of them made it, and perhaps even more given the Steward’s comments. With all the bodies, you’ve felt more sick as you kept going on. How many people are gonna die because of you? You’ve already got enough blood on your hands. You don’t want to add more.

You kick the sand again, just because. Edér says nothing.

There’s a small cliffside up ahead, but you eye the boars blocking your way. You hold a hand out to Edér, making the both of you halt to a stop. They haven’t seemed to noticed your presence yet. “They don’t look real friendly,” you notice. “Though, probably nothing on this island is.”

He looks aghast as you imply what needs to be done. “Now hold on a minute, they could be  _ real _ nice.”

“Oh, I’m sure they’re nice. Nice as Durance, maybe.”

“That’s just cruel.” He takes another look at them. “But true.”

You smile at him, holding up one hand. “Want ‘em burnt or crispy?”

“You’ve been itching to cast something, ain’t ya?”

“Maybe.”

“Try not to burn ‘em too much,” he laughs, shaking his head in disbelief at you. “Might need ‘em for dinner. Meat would be better than rations.”

Oh, right, rations. You’ve got sea-legs now. “Yum,” you deadpan. “Stale crackers.”

The crackle of flame in your palm belies a talent in your veins as you murmur the incantations under your breath, tossing your hand out in a dramatic  _ whoosh _ to send the fireball across the sands. It sails against the wind and you watch as it slams against the boar and, disappointedly, does not set it aflame as you hoped. Flames lick and crawl up the back-end of the beast, scorching the hind legs as it squeals in pain and fury. The rest of the boars join in the squealing sans the scorching pain in their legs, they turn to you and Edér with a wild, primal fury in their eyes.

“Ah,” you say, biting your lower lip. “Hm. Well. That didn’t go as planned. There was to be more flames and less squealing.”

Edér takes a wide step to stand in front of you, shield already raised to stop the charging boar that comes in your direction. It slams against his shield and sends him stepping back a few inches to account for the weight pushing against him; you take this time to step back, incantations upon your tongue as you sift through your memories for the spells that you should very well know by heart. Your free hand traces the tip of your blade, drawing upon the shape for your spell. Ghostly blades burst into life behind the beasts and you control them all with a flourish, using the magical blades to attack from behind, trying to clean up the mess as quickly as possible.

Edér, for his part, continues to take the beating that you’ve always accidentally pushed him into with stride. With his shield he deflects and parries angry tusks that go for his knees, his sword coming over the top of it to strike downwards. Thankfully for this small time where the both of you are exhausted, the boars are hardly cunning. With a flourishing attack by the flick of your wrist, the ghostly blades you had summoned sink into the flesh of the last standing boar, a low drawn out squeal echoing the last remainder of its life. Your blades disappear as quickly as they came, and you brace yourself with hands on your knees as you feel exhaustion continue to wear down heavily upon you.

It’s not the same as battle weariness though. You’ve noticed it as you’ve been awake, feeling the tug of sleep pulling on you the longer you stay awake; your limbs grow heavy, your mind feels fuzzy and distant. It’s almost like you’re watching someone else control your body, this feeling that you have. Who knew losing a majority of your soul could feel so tiring?

Your companion claps you on the shoulder, drawing your attention back to the world around you and you push yourself to stand up straight, flashing him a smile as you do so. “Sorry,” you say. “It’s hard casting spells like that in succession.”

“Oh I remember. Aloth would get this weird expression and then maybe he’d puke on your shoes. Or he’d get better.” That flicker of concern is still in his eyes - you doubt it’ll go away ever - but that telltale grin is on his face. You wonder if he’s forcing it for you or himself.

“I’ll not ruin anyone’s boots today, I promise.” The further Eothas draws away, the heavier the feeling. Though while it’s manageable right now, although no doubt worsened by your exhaustion from a life-threatening experience, you’re not keen to push yourself past what you can handle. It was foolish to cast the spells back-to-back though. You tell yourself you won’t do it again with little conviction. You may not get much of a choice. “We could follow the pond,” you point, “it’ll lead us somewhere, I think. Or something interesting may be around it.”

Edér sheaths his sword and glances between the pond and the horizon. “Something interesting as in actual pirate treasure interesting or screaming wraiths interesting?”

“Ideally, treasure. Realistically, wraiths.”

“Maybe the wraiths are guarding the treasures.”

“Optimistic.”

Edér laughs. “Someone’s gotta be.”

You start ahead, carefully stepping upon the worn path before you with the sun warm on your back without another word. You guess that you’ve got about three or four hours until nightfall which makes it all the more pressing that you find: your crew, a safe place to rest, and a reliable water source. Food, you’ve already got covered and will come back for later but food’s meaningless - for the most part - with no crew to share it with. The fighter trails after you, footsteps clearly heard as they walk across the sand.

The path is worn so naturally it must be used frequently by whomever or for whatever reason so you think it’s safe to assume that you’re somewhat near civilization. While you’ve no immediate and incredibly accurate map of the Deadfire at your disposal, you do have years worth of survival instincts with you so it must be pretty much the same. The Deadfire, in this case, is just the Dyrwood but with more water: people trying to kill you, an ancient or godly plan to unravel, and your friends at your side.

What a lovely adventure this must be.

“It is good to see you well, Watcher.” A familiar voice calls out from the shadows, your hand already having instinctively moved to the hilt and have the sword already half-pulled from the sheath. Chitupec emerges unscathed, hands raised in a surrender and then returning to his sides to the pistol at his hip. Your shoulders slump in relief, sword returning fully to the sheath. “I believe the boars were hoping for easy meat.”

“I’m only grateful it was boars and not, say, angry pirates,” you reply. “I’m glad to see you unharmed, Chitupec. Have you seen any other survivors?”

Chitupec nods. “The boatswain, Beodul, is in that cave over there. Ran in after a boar. Stubborn old dwarf.”

“All dwarves in my experience have always been stubborn and old,” Edér remarks. “Mostly the stubborn part.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Next time we see Sagani, I’m telling.”

The look of horror that goes over his face would make for a hilarious painting. “Now, wait just a minute, I said it was more of the stubborn part than the old part. She’s not old, or well, I don’t recall her being old.”

“It was a jest. Chitupec, I’ve a question. If Beodul ran in  _ there _ , why are you out  _ here _ ?”

Chitupec’s gaze slides off of you into a brush off to the side. “When we awoke upon the beach, Beodul had recited the essentials for being shipwrecked.” He raises his hand and counts off his fingers. “Source of water, food, and shelter. We had assumed the cave would be safe enough while we were searching for supplies, but we were attacked by boars shortly after. I came over this way in hopes of gathering some of that blood moss over there, thinking it might be of use. I imagine the boars had the same idea, though I was able to calm one of the boars with a spell. For a time, at least… but by the time I was through, I had lost sight of Beodul. I remained here, hoping he would return quickly. He has not.”

You nod, listening intently. “And how long has Beodul been gone?”

“Since we awoke.” His gaze goes upwards in the sky before he returns it back to you. “By the position of the sun, it must’ve been close to an hour by now.”

An hour? By your line of work, most people who’ve descended into caves like that rarely return. You stifle that thought before you think more on it, but holding onto the hope that perhaps this dwarf was craftier than he looks. “We’ll search the caverns for Beodul. Irrena’s on the beach, hoping to start a fire and get a campsite running; look for her there, and help her if you can. Her leg’s injured.”

“Of course, captain. I must get this pistol cleaned if it is going to be of any use, and Irrena will need all the help she can get. I will meet you three there when you return. Be careful in there, captain.”

“Likewise for you, Chitupec,” Edér says as he passes, and you glance down at the impressions in the sand. Obvious footprints, though mingled with the boars as well. “Ready to head into that cavern?”

Most caves have been dark and foreboding for you in the past. Between bears or giant mushrooms and spores or wraiths or vithracks, nothing has been too pleasing in your list of caves around the world. “Not particularly,” you admit. “But we’ll need a boatswain if we want to sail on the open seas again.”

The two of you embark upon the path, following after the footprints in the sand. “Beodul’s not a bad man,” Edér says as you walk side by side. “Heavy drinker though, not as bad as Engrim. Knows his stuff.”

“Did you find him in Defiance Bay?” you ask.

“Yeah. Was making a fuss down in the port inn, drinking and looking for work. He’s got some experience under his belt, and he didn’t ask for much coin so it was the immediate solution to our problem.”

“Mm.” The cave holds little light as you approach, patches of discoloration on the rocks blocks out what little light enters in the cave entrance. Edér holds out a torch to you and you light it with your magic, letting him take the lead as you mostly have in the past. Colorful plants on the walls give some nice lighting to your little adventure, though you both slow your pace as torchlight continues from within. You strain your senses but don’t sense anyone in the near vicinity. “I’ve a question.”

“Shoot,” he replies. Both of you crouch down slightly, keeping your footsteps light as you slowly advance within the cave. You eye the wrecked boat by the dock, keeping it in mind for later. “Guess we’re not the first to head this way.”

You nod, though he isn’t looking your way. You sneak your way onto the dock and grit your teeth as the wood creaks on the added weight. You search through the already open crates as quickly as you can be. “Shipwrecks are common in the Deadfire. But to my question: why am I the captain?”

A robe, a torch, a small pack of rations and some copper. You pocket the money and rations, but leave the tattered robe and torch where they stay. You already have a torch and the robe in its current condition will do you no good. You return back to the path, still as quiet as a mouse.

“Whaddya mean? You’re the captain ‘cause, well.” He pauses as you both cross the bridge, the scuttling of many legs on the edge of your hearing. His voice is a whisper as you get closer. “You were the leader last time we had an adventure. Didn’t see why you wouldn’t be the leader this time.”

“I was comatose,” you remind him, groaning internally as you see the cave beetle. “Not really a captain if I’m sleeping all the time, am I?”

“Felt right to me, anyway,” he shrugs. A moment later, his sword is unsheathed in his hands. “‘Sides, you’ve already stepped up to the role of captain nicely in the time you’ve been awake.”

These monsters are practically nothing at all. You don’t feel bad for the cave beetle, not really. Bugs are, well, they’re bugs. “I suppose,” you reply, then nod your head towards the - what you assume to be - northern part of the cavern. “Skeleton up there. Place might be crawling with them. Might find Beodul around all the action. So, uh, lead the way.”

It’s systematic. Edér takes the front defense, you hang back and provide both support and offense. You swap between melee weapons and spells, and he protects the both of you as best as he always does. The cave is nothing extraordinary, rock walls and a pond that provides the comforting sound of water lapping against the rock. The two of you are quiet the whole time you work, taking down skeletons and more cave beetles as you go. The loot is nice, pocketing extra coin and finding a not-completely broken pistol.

You try not to make note of the dead bodies along the way. It’d be nice to be optimistic about something not really trying to kill you at the end of this cave. And the bodies look only recently dead, give or take a month or so, and with nothing of value upon them. The only good thing is that you lost your morals about looting dead bodies five years back.

A loud, angry voice booms up from ahead that echoes in the caverns that you walk through. “Damn pirates! Ondra take your scabrous souls for fish food!”

Ah, the colorful language of the dwarves.

Edér stops sneaking around, stepping up with a wide grin on his face and relief plain to see. His arms extend outwards as if to hug the dwarf, but Beodul moves not an inch. “Beodul! Still alive and calling everybody scabrous, I see! Well now we got a boatswain. Just need a boat.”

“Edér? And I see that corpse-” You flinch. “-we’ve been carting around is looking a sight more sprightly. Good to see the two of you, but mind your step. I’ve got myself in a spot of trouble. I’ve been trying to find a way past without losing a leg or getting a face-full of poison.”

That’s clear to see like the sun on a spring day, him getting himself into trouble. Your eyes already catch the glint of light that reflects off the metal traps within the sand. How the hell Beodul managed to get where he is without setting one off is a mystery you’ll leave for later, more coherent you. The fact that you can see them is good, the knowledge that you know you can disarm them? Even better.

“Give this walking corpse a moment and you’ll not be a statue anymore,” you say, fishing around in your pack for the disarming kit you always keep readily at hand. How many traps have you walked into over the years? Probably somewhere in the hundreds, or thousands. You’ve learned to be careful, somewhat.

It’s easy work disarming them, though. Waiting for the click and release of a trigger that won’t go off anymore, then pulling them out of the ground when you know it’s safe enough. You keep this going for each and every trap around Beodul, not wanting to risk anything for your boatswain. You’re careful enough to be able to reuse the traps for whatever you want, sliding them off to the side to put them into your magical bag of holding later.

Whatever Mother Nature - be she a rogue who lays traps down around her enemies or a priest to give scrolls of healing - gives, you’ve learned to take without asking. The abundance of traps you’ve now collected brings a smile to your face. You stand, wiping dirt and gravel off your pants and hands as you do so and give a confirming nod to Beodul.

“Thanks,” says the dwarf. “Handy to have someone who knows how to disarm them around. Guess you won’t be a bad captain after all, uh, captain. However, this cave is just bats and stinking corpses. Did you manage to find anyone else?”

Edér speaks up. “Irrena and Chitupec are on the beach, already got a campfire going by my guess. Go ahead and join them when you can, we’re gonna keep lookin’ around for any survivors.”

“Then I’ll head that way myself. See you on the beach.” He gives you both a curt nod, grimacing as he shuffles weight between his legs. An injury, probably. “Captain. Edér.”

When Beodol is out of earshot, Edér taps you on the arm. “Torches up ahead. We can check it out, see if they’re friend or foe, grab the treasure…”

You nod. “It’s probably going to be a monster, though.”

“Aw, don’t say that.”

“It  _ usually _ is a monster. Remember the caves near Gilded Vale? Mushroom beasts half the time, bears the other.”

Edér snorts. “I remember Aloth fussin’ about them. It wasn’t that bad, but then again, I was unconscious for most of it.”

“Charmed,” you correct him. “You were  _ charmed. _ ”

“Mhm.” He sends you a lopsided grin your way. “Seem to be charmed a lot since I’ve been with you.”

Instinctively, you bite on your cheek as your heart skips a beat or three. It’s nothing, you know logically, but it catches you off guard.You clear your throat. “Let’s not get charmed while we’re here? Not exactly in shape to be fighting you.”

“Sure, sure. Just hope it’s not another mushroom monster again. What’re they called? Myconids?”

“Bastards.”

He laughs. Your heart skips a beat.

With no monsters in sight, save for a very large metallic construct rusting away in the back of a cave surrounded by portraits, you loot what you can find and leave the cave as quickly as you entered it. By now the sun has begun to set, the faint purple of the night sky peeking through as the moon begins to take the place of the sun with the stars beside it. The campfire smokes rises high and the two of you follow it, quiet in your walk back to the group but content otherwise.

You’re pleasantly surprised when you spot Engrim there safe and sound, helping set up a small perimeter around this area you’ve claimed for yourselves. And thankfully someone had the kindness to move the Steward up to the nearby rock by the campfire, though she’s silent for the most part. A greeting as you and Edér approached but ultimately quiet otherwise. Bedrolls have already been found, dried, and set out and you don’t even bother to think twice about the fact that Edér’s set yours up almost right next to his. Exhaustion muddles your brain.

You mutter a quiet goodnight, already half asleep the moment your head hits the pillow.

**Author's Note:**

> find me at [tumblr](http://umbralcalamity.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/umbralcalamity)
> 
> hope you enjoyed, and please let me know what you think!


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